The Most Exclusive Dive In Town
by Mark of the Asphodel
Summary: Taking Grado Keep is hardly a cause for celebration.  Ephraim heads off into town to take a break from reality, but he finds a little more unreality than he anticipated.  FE8 with an assortment of special guests.


**The Most Exclusive Dive In Town**

I do not own _Fire Emblem_ or any of its characters.

Warning: Features some level of spoilers for every FE game up to and including FE8, most heavily for FE8. Also features alcohol use.

* * *

Spatters of rain fell on the paving stones of Grado's capital as Ephraim trudged westward in search of the Winking Wyvern. It wasn't the right thing to do, and it wasn't the smart thing to do, and Kyle would fill his ears with chiding when he got back to the castle, but Ephraim knew what he needed right then. He needed illusion, needed to fall back into the fantasy that it was just another day of lessons with General Duessel and Father MacGregor and that Lyon would be slipping off to join him shortly. And they'd spend the evening pretending to be an ordinary mage and an ordinary mercenary, young men with no future ahead of them besides what they could grab with their own hands. And Lyon would drop the charade first, give himself away with some comment that would never spring from the brain or cross the lips of a common mage, and Ephraim would finish his beer in exasperation and drag his friend out before the evening was ruined. That was what Ephraim needed.

The Winking Wyvern was an empty shell- windows broken, a bar across the splintered door. Ephraim clenched his fist in frustration; was _any_ form of comfort going to be offered him today? He continued down the street, hoping to find the next-best tavern in the district open, and when that was denied him headed for the next, and so on in a steady procession of disappointment. At last he found himself in an unfamiliar alley, contemplating the sign of a public house he'd never set foot in before. "Anna's Place," it said, and while the name brought to mind coziness and apple-cheeked older ladies and other things Ephraim wasn't in the mood for, the light through the windows said the tavern was at least still in business. There was something, too, about the picture on the sign- a portrait of a red-haired girl making a cheeky gesture at passers-by- that said that maybe _cozy_ wasn't quite the word for Anna's Place. Ephraim shrugged and ducked into the entryway.

-x-

"Your cloak, my lord?"

"No need for that. I'm just a mercenary who spends too much on his clothes," Ephraim said, supplying his standard excuse.

"Everyone says he's a lord here," the doorman replied as he hung up the mantle, and he gave Ephraim a grin that said that he, personally, was unimpressed by such things. Ephraim nodded and made his way toward the front of the tavern. It was larger than it looked from the outside, with thick carpets on the floor and a vast array of bottles gleaming behind the polished bar counter. The proprietress stood behind the counter; she was, beyond dispute, the red-haired girl from the outdoor sign. Her hair shimmered like a halo of flames.

"Why, hello! It's not every day someone finds this place." She winked at him, and Ephraim wondered if there was some joke he was missing. "First one's on the house."

Ephraim acquired a barstool and seated himself just as Anna placed a glass in front of him. The contents smelled like brandywine from western Renais. Tasted like it, too- the first swallow went down warm and smooth.

"S'good," he commented. The taste brought memories flooding back to him. Pretty village maidens serving him free drinks at a harvest festival. A winter night under the stars with Kyle, Forde, and a flask taken from the belt of a dead bandit. The time he'd competed with Innes to see which of them could drink more and _still_ remember the words to the Frelian national anthem. Innes won, but in Ephraim's view that hadn't been a fair contest. It wasn't his kingdom's song, after all.

"Excellent. I'll take another."

"Sure. There's plenty more where that came from."

Ephraim took time to enjoy the second drink. He began to look around at Anna's Place and its clientele. Besides Anna and the doorman, there were only a few kids hanging out around a gaming-table at the back. They all looked to be about sixteen, if that, and from the clothes, they had to be young nobles- each one wore a crazy amount of gold embroidery. They weren't dressed like nobles from Grado, though, and Ephraim wondered if they were some merchant brats from Carcino trying to make up in ostentation for what they lacked in titles. He kept an eye on them for some time, trying to figure them out. They were strange kids, he decided- quiet, solemn. They all kept looking at him with big eyes... two sets of blue eyes and one of brown. The brown-eyed one and the long-haired one looked related (and to Ephraim they both looked pretty girlish), but the redhead with the ornate headband didn't quite fit.

"Friendly crowd," he said once he'd had enough of the staring contest.

"They're shy boys," Anna replied. "They'll warm up to you eventually. New faces don't show up here that often."

"So you said. Well, I'm afraid they won't have time to get used to me. I'm just passing through Grado on my way elsewhere."

"That's what they all say, sugar." Before Ephraim could protest, Anna aimed her enticing smile over and past him. "Ah, here's one of my regulars."

Ephraim turned, and in the gloom of the doorway he could see a young man handing his cloak to the jaded door attendant. Ephraim didn't need to see the sword at the youth's belt to know that this was someone experienced with a blade; it showed in every step as the newcomer walked toward the bar. And yet, he didn't have the bearing of a professional swordfighter like the mercenary Gerik. For some bizarre reason, the stranger reminded Ephraim- for one instant, anyway- of his sister Eirika. Ephraim shook off the weird sensation; this guy didn't even look remotely like Eirika. He looked a lot like that long-haired kid in the corner and was dressed the same too but with less gold and frippery. Ephraim wondered if the blue tunic was the uniform of some foreign army.

Anna had a full glass of something garnet-red waiting at the spot next to Ephraim even before the newcomer sat down.

"Evening, honey. You're late, and I was starting to worry about you."

"No need to worry about _me_, Anna." His voice was very soft, but the stranger had the sound of someone who'd suffered through countless elocution classes. Ephraim could sympathize. He decided then that if they were going to drink together, they might as well be friendly about it.

"The name's-"

"We don't use names here," the other said, and something in his voice just then set Ephraim on edge. "Once you have this, the rest is inconsequential."

Ephraim caught a glimpse of a card identical to the one he'd obtained from L'Arachel's extortion-minded attendant earlier that day.

"Still, no one stumbles into Anna's by accident," said the newcomer as he put away the card. "What's your story?"

"I was bored and my favorite place to drink in this city is gone."

"Oh, really? And where did you acquire the card?" There was that _something_ in his voice again, and this time Ephraim knew what it was. It was, beyond a doubt, the sound of someone accustomed to command, someone whose questions had to be answered without hesitation and whose orders must be obeyed. It wasn't extreme- nothing like when Innes got on his high horse about something- but that underlying _presence _was definitely there.

And Ephraim, Crown Prince of Renais, found that just a little bit unnerving. He didn't have any clue who this guy even was, and someone that high up in rank was probably someone Ephraim ought to know, or at least be aware of. Still, Ephraim judged that he could take the newcomer fairly easily in a fight, so he contented himself for the time being with sidestepping the questions.

"Got it from a thief." A fair enough way to describe Rennac, given what else had been on his person when Ephraim caught up with him.

His new drinking companion accepted that, and Ephraim decided to supply his normal cover story. It didn't go over so well.

"You're a mercenary? Right, and I'm a shapeshifter."

"A what?"

"Never mind." This guy had that same strange gloom hanging over him as the three boys in the corner, like the shadow that hovered over arena fighters who felt they'd lived too long and fought too long. "So, friend mercenary, what brings you to our Anna's door? I might be mistaken, but you are not, as they say, from around these parts."

_Neither are you_, thought Ephraim, but aloud he said only, "I had some business to settle with one of my friends."

"An unpleasant manner of business, I presume." It wasn't a question.

"You could say that," Ephraim began slowly, and then piece by piece words he really didn't want to say came out. "We've been friends for years, and I've had nothing but the highest esteem for him. There's things I can do better than he can, but there's so much that he can do... that he can _see... _that I can't even imagine. And yet, something's not right. I've begun to think that my friend is involved in something very wrong- and if that's true, he's done something terrible to _me_ in spite of our friendship. To me and to everything I care about. And I don't mean that he's stolen money from me or has ill intentions toward my sister or anything like that. It sounds like he's involved in something... unthinkable. Beyond belief."

"There's not a great deal _beyond belief_, really," the nameless other said, but he sounded sympathetic enough.

"Maybe. And I have to deal with my friend and what he's done because... well, I just do. I don't think anyone else can." The warm burn of brandywine was leaving him now, and as the warmth slipped away Ephraim wished that Anna would serve him another round. "And on some level... well, I don't _want_ to be the one to face my friend, but I have to be. In some way, I _have_ to be."

That was as much as Ephraim wanted to say. Silence fell between them for a moment, until Ephraim shot his companion a pointed look asking for _his_ story. Ephraim was, after all, well accustomed to exercising command by his own rights.

"My situation sounds alarmingly like yours, on its surface anyway. Give or take a few minor betrayals, some dark magic, and the odd dragon here and there."

The offhand reference to dragons startled Ephraim; his companion said it nonchalantly, like dragons were as commonplace as pegasi instead of something out of legend, like... like three-headed dogs. Or walking corpses armed with poison-tipped weapons.

Maybe there wasn't much beyond belief after all.

"So, how did things shake out between you and your friend?"

"I tracked him down and killed him."

This, too, came out with a shocking degree of nonchalance. Ephraim stared hard at the other youth, wondering if this wasn't one of those soulless people who'd simply taken life too many times. He remembered bone-chilling stories of wandering swordsmen driven outside the realms of humanity with their bloodlust...

"You killed him. Just like that?"

"Well, it took about a year, all told. There were... obstacles."

"I'll bet." Given what had already been confessed, Ephraim figured he didn't want the rest of the details. "So, what are you, a fugitive?"

"No, I'm not." The other youth smiled a little- nearly laughed, even- as he shook his head. "Nothing like that."

"So you killed your friend and simply walked away from his murder."

Things like that did happen often enough, so it surprised Ephraim that his drinking companion turned swiftly on him, an intense and not remotely amused look in his blue eyes.

"Tell me... if you have to settle things in such a way with your friend, what would _you_ be?"

It brought back, violently, memories from a few hours before, when Ephraim had been trying to shout some sense into Vigarde and had gotten only a glassy-eyed stare from the Silent Emperor in return. He'd walked into that throne room knowing he might well have to come to blows with his best friend's father, and the fact that Vigarde turned out to already be dead didn't erase the _sickness_ Ephraim felt as he yanked the head of Reginleif out of Vigarde's still chest. Much less what he felt when the corpse then began to disintegrate...

No, Ephraim thought. He was not a mercenary. He was not a common mercenary embroiled in a feud with a friend over love affairs or gambling debts. He was Ephraim of Renais, conqueror of Grado, to all appearances the slayer of His Majesty Emperor Vigarde. And if he stood against his friend, he would be Prince Ephraim of Renais against Prince Lyon of Grado, the sons of dead fathers dueling to settle a war that made no sense in the first place.

_If I end this war, even if it meant Lyon's life... most would call me a hero._

The thought made his innards twist, or maybe it was the brandywine making him nauseated. He shouldn't have drunk on an empty stomach. Forde would laugh at him again for it.

"You think about your friend?" he asked when the nausea passed.

"Yes, I suppose I do," came the soft reply. "Quite often."

"And how long has it been?"

"Ten years," the other said, peering into the dregs of his cup. "Closing in on eleven."

Ephraim simply stared at his companion's prettyboy face. This guy _could not_ be any older than Ephraim was himself. Even his voice sounded young, and that wasn't something one could disguise that easily. _Maybe _he was a year or two above twenty, but that was it. Ephraim was pondering how to even respond to this when a new female voice made them both turn around. A young woman was engaged in a confrontation with the door attendant, who apparently had offended her in some way.

"I must leave," said the anonymous other as he scattered some gold on the counter. "Until next week, Anna."

"Take care, honey. I'll remind Jake about keeping his hands off. You know he doesn't mean nothing by it..."

"I'll see you around, no doubt," the other youth added under his breath to Ephraim.

Ephraim was speechless. His mind felt pulled in too many directions at once to think of _anything. _For one, he'd caught a glimpse of the gold the stranger left behind, and it wasn't any coin he recognized. For another, the sight of the aggrieved young woman- the stranger's sweetheart, from the looks of things- disconcerted him. Thanks to her long hair and red dress, his wearied eyes had almost mistaken her for Tana. Ephraim had felt a near-overwhelming urge to strike the door attendant for his insolence toward that girl, and even after he knew it _wasn't_ Tana, the impulse took a few moments to pass.

"Anna, how long did you say that guy'd been coming here?"

"Fourteen years," she said promptly as she polished a crystal goblet. "He was a funny-looking kid then... they say the awkward ones do turn out the best. Like my Jake over there. He was the most homely boy in town, and then one day, _whoo._" She aimed a smile at the half-lit figure of the lecherous door attendant. Ephraim was distracted by her math, though. Anna had to be somewhere between seventeen and twenty. However he felt about history lessons, Ephraim had a perfect grasp on arithmetic, and none of this was adding up in the least.

Anna set another glass in front of him.

"Remember, only the _first_ one's on the house- no gold, no sale. I'll add this to your bill."

A part of Ephraim knew he shouldn't drink any more of what Anna was pouring out for him, but the rest of him felt that he needed a third drink to brace himself. Everything was just too weird.

-x-

By the time he'd finished the third drink, the stool next to him was occupied by a girl with exotic clothes and a long swishing ponytail. She couldn't have been more than seventeen, but she was pretty clearly a "regular," too; she had a great deal to tell Anna about long-lost relatives who wanted to kill her for some bizarre reason. Ponytail Girl had a smile for Ephraim now and again, a smile that promised something magnificent to the man brave enough to take her on. Or maybe it just promised death; she had the hands of a swordswoman. Ephraim longed to hear more, but she jumped down and was gone before he found out her name.

After that came a couple of sad cases, a tough-looking kid of about sixteen who'd somehow caused his own father's death and a red-haired man who'd accidentally killed his girlfriend. They commiserated with one another while Ephraim finished his final gulp of brandywine and decided that he'd had enough of this tavern. Still, the evening had possibly done him some good- he didn't exactly feel at ease about his own situation, but at least he wasn't in as sorry a mess as the rest of these people.

He probably gave Anna far too much gold for the cost of the drinks, but he really didn't care anymore.

"'Til next time!" she called after him.

"I doubt it."

It was good to be out in the air again, even with the rain pelting his face and the pungent scent of wyvern dung thick upon the wind. Ephraim glanced back at Anna's Place and noticed for the first time the small sign in the window reading "Members Only." He slipped his hand into the wallet at his belt to finger the card he'd taken from Rennac that afternoon; he had some questions for the rogue, or he thought he did, but within a few steps they'd gone out of his head. Ephraim of Renais pulled his mantle tight around him and walked back toward the silhouette of Grado Keep with his head high. He was done play-acting for the night, was ready to be a prince and a commander of men again. He was ready to be a hero again.

Whatever that might mean.

**The End**

**

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**_Author's Note:_ I was playing with the idea of Jake and Anna as time-traveling semi-omnipotent adventurers and instead I came up with this. Guests at Anna's Place: that's Roy, Leaf, and Celice skulking at the back of the tavern, Lyn is Ponytail Girl, and Alm and Eliwood are the two "sad cases" at the end. The identity of Ephraim's new drinking companion should be obvious. And no, I don't know where Sigurd, Hector, or Cellica are that evening, but since Anna's Place has a kind of hellish vibe to it, you should be glad they aren't present.


End file.
